Only by a storm of flowing passion
by random-k
Summary: N isn't exactly what you would call a native to this region. Or world.


Only by a storm of flowing passion

* * *

 _ **"The doom of a nation can be averted only by a storm of flowing passion, but only those who are passionate themselves can arouse passion in others"**_

 _I own nothing but my own ideas_

* * *

Something you have never told anyone.

You are not from this world.

No, when you were younger, you lived in a world with monsters. Monsters and magic, and empires.

You had seen resistance fighters and even an imperial general , with a small orb, a dead esper, teaching them magic.

A wild boy, who taught you the basics of understanding monsters once in another world. Long before the world as you knew it, ended.

Terror. Screaming. A cloud of ashes raining from the sky. A woman pressing something into your hand. Magic everywhere. Nightmares.

You are not sure how you ended up in this world, but you think she may have had something to do with it. You could not ask her, for she was dead.

She had entrusted you with Alexander, the defender. This world has a foreign feeling to it, that you struggle to identify . Alexander is a familiar comfort.

You later realize that this world, for all its mysteries, has no magic like you have known. At home, though few could use it, it was always present, in the air, under people's skins, in the monsters themselves.

Pokemon have some themselves, but it is a lot more internal and limited then you are used to.

You stay in the forest, using what your friend has taught you of monsters, to befriend the local ones. You later learn they are called Pokemon. They are very different from what you knew at home, though they have a similar base language.

You are not sure how long you stayed among them, only that you had almost forgotten how humans spoke, when Ghetsis found you.

That was not provide any particular help regardless, for you did not know any of the languages of this world. They assumed you were speaking gibberish, at first. You have long since forgotten your home language, now.

What is familiar, among all the rules of this strange new world, is math. Equations to make sense of the world, that are still consistent even in this strange and less magical place. Math is comforting, and you take pleasure in learning as much about it as possible. You remember your mother and father, patiently teaching you it, long ago, and sometimes can hear them going over it with you. It's almost like a song these days, no known words, but a comforting rhythm to it.

He takes you in, and slowly you learn the language, and begin to make sense of this new world. Well, no, people are still perplexing.

Here, humans do not fight monsters.  
Here they seek those who come out of the grass at them, and capture them. They train them to fight, and turn them on each other.

At home, few monsters are captured, and even fewer were regularly domesticated. It was mostly monsters who would help with a individual jobs. Tracking, guarding, or fighting alongside human companions.

And that's what strikes you as particularly weird. Here humans have become support, at best. Here, Pokemon do the majority of the fighting. There are no swords, or fists or Magiteck. It's a weird role reversal.

Then you start meeting abused Pokemon, and find its not always one of respect.

At home, while monsters were feared and fought, there has always been a sense of respect there too. Only fools disrespect what could get them killed.

Your friend had put emphasis on respecting monsters, too. He insisted it was a key component to cooperating with them.

These humans have gotten careless. Thinking that their easy methods capture could allow them to disrespect something that should be a partnership.

A sphere, similar to the size of Alexander's body, now drained of life, even as it protects you. Pokeballs.

This whole captive fighting monster slavery, for there seem to be no better words to describe it, makes you angry. The more friends you make of abused Pokemon, the more something under your skin itches for action.

Finally, when you are crowned as king, you can begin to set your plan into motion.

You did not expect to meet resistance. You expected challengers, of course, for it is their way of life you are pushing to change. You expect to meet dissenters. You do not expect to meet equal's. People who's bonds with their Pokemon, strengthen them, and push them both to new limits.

One trainer particularly, seems determined to challenge your ideas. Always one step behind you, beating you in battle, and so beautifully synchronized with their team. Your rival. Your challenger.

You can not turn from this path now, so you talk fast, and leave faster, before they can speak, and plant more seeds of doubt in your mind or heart. You cannot lose more momentum, more conviction, or all progress will come to an end. You must climb higher, run faster, get stronger, reach further. Channel your passion, all you can give, into one goal.

You befriend a dragon in a tower, and wonder if they are anything like the Espers of legend. You will never know now, for yours is dead, but you would like to think so. You like to dream that, in a different world, they would have gotten along.

The support of the dragon who's traits this world values, Ideals, bolsters you. Bringing legends into reality, is a terrifying and awe inspiring thing. You wonder if it is anything like casting magic.

You still dream, of the day your world fell. The heavy feeling of magic, high winds, creatures out of your wildest dreams or nightmares in the sky. Falling, everything seems like it is falling, into chaos.

You wonder if your parents are still alive. If anyone you once knew, ended up in another world, maybe even this one. Some-days, you dream of meeting someone from home. Maybe, one day you will look.

Perhaps a stranger has ended up in a different part of this world. Maybe one day, you could find them. Perhaps they would still remember the language of home. Maybe you could learn it again from them?

The feel of electricity from your dragon friend, so close to your skin, could almost feel like magic, with some imagination.

But now is not the time for that. One day, perhaps. Now you must focus on the future.  
To build a new future, you must start by beating the elite four.

Those battles are long, and perhaps you were not fully prepared, but you prevail. You expected nothing less, after all.

Alder attempts to lecture you, but you are not paying too much attention. Your Rival is approaching. And they look angry.

With the help of your legendary Pokemon, you summon, Protection. For all the years you have carried it, you've never summoned it, nor used your magic in this way. It comes in a form you didn't consciously expect.

Your castle.

Your sanctuary.

How bizarre how no one seemed to question at the time, how it had moved. You only questioned it yourself, much later. Sometimes, magic works in mysterious ways. The universe can be unpredictable after all, particularity when you don't attach expectations to it.

Caught up in the moment, you ascend into the castle on your dragon.

Your rival follows.

Only when they catch up, do you notice they do not have the dragon of truth with them.

That doesn't remain a problem for long, for not long after you point it out, then the dragon emerges from a stone of white.

You wonder if Alexander will ever awaken, or if the Esper is truly gone for good, nothing but a spirit impression in a shell. Could Espers be reborn from the the shell of their body, under the right circumstances? Would even Phoenix be able to achieve that. Perhaps something in another part of this world, may hold answers.

You are unexpectedly snapped out of your reflections, when your rival appears in front of you. Before you can say anything, they punch you in the nose.

"What was that for!" You demand, outraged that have interrupted this magical moment, the first time the dragon of truth has been seen since the battle of kings. What possible reason would they resort to violence, at a time like this?

As your nose bleeds, and your rival launches into a speech that flows out of them like water, and who's momentum crashes into you like a wave, and leaves you disoriented, and wondering why Alexander didn't prevent it. Perhaps you deserved it? Bleeding, you try to focus on the speech.

It seems to involve your habit of walking away, of not listening, of your blindness to what Plasma members themselves are doing in your name, your lack of ability to compromise, the economy, and for some reason, the stairs.

Truths fly by you, lost in the torrent of words, but one accusation sticks.

"You think you know all the answers, all in that head of yours, and won't look anywhere else for them. That's very close minded of you, not to even try."

You try to wait for a good place to interrupt, but the longer they talk, the more momentum they seem to pick up.

Absently, you wonder if dispel or Esuna, might fix your nose. Unfortunately, you are too magically exhausted to experiment with this line of thought.

You search your pocket for a nice rock, and take a moment to mourn its loss, before taking aim, and throwing it out the window.

The shattering of glass startles your rival into blessed silence.

"You still have yet to prove your conviction" you challenge, before they can start the speech again.

They meet your eyes with a challenge in them, and step up to the dragon of truth.

You are not surprised that they manage to catch it. You are surprised that they decide not to use the dragon of truth in battle.

Legends have always been important to you. Told in a low hush by the fire, whispered to you in bed, woven into blankets, inked into skin, and carved into stone. It was one of the first things you remember falling for, when you learned this language.

You dreamed of the day, you would fight as a king, dragon against dragon, ideals against truths.

It's perhaps admirable, that your rival chooses to fight with the bonds they have built with the Pokemon they have. Perhaps it's a truth that matters to them.

You have to admit, that you feel a little bitter, as you start the battle. This dream is not going how you expected at all. Its falling to pieces around you, ashes in the sky.

You fall, and your Pokemon fall in battle to your rival, as blood falls from your nose.

You lose, and your father comes and shatters you with words, and deeds, disappointment and betrayal churning in your gut, and it's all you can do to heal your rivals Pokemon, as your nose bleeds still, almost as bad as your heart does. You are lost again, falling, crashing, into a new world.

You have a realization, an important one. It's over now. There's no turning back to how things once were, and perhaps that's a good thing. It really doesn't matter anymore, and finally, you use a potion to try to fix your nose. It works well enough, but you should probably get it looked at later.

Your rival beats Ghetsis, thankfully, and as he leaves, you realize that you should too. You have spent so long chasing ideals, that you have forgotten to check for truths. It's scary, but also freeing. No one seems to expect anything of you, not anymore.

The world isn't just black and white, it's also blues and greens, reds and yellows. Its nuanced, and you need to see that and remember. It's like losing a blanket, lighter, but also colder.

Today, you need it to be bracing. You get onto the back of the Dragon of Ideals, Zekrom, with a bit of a jump. And just like that, you've stopped falling.

Your flying, higher and higher.

Below you, the world is filled with possibilities.

* * *

 _I never thought I wanted N and Gau to have been friends so badly, but now that I've hinted at it, they would be great friends. They have beast speech of sorts, and green haired, would probably be fascinated in the other worlds._

 _N has summoned a castle!_

 _So many things finally happened my friend, all for this important day it started!_

 _Chears!_


End file.
